The Five Kisses Sam and Freddie Didn't Have
by SpringBloom
Summary: The five kisses Sam and Freddie didn't have, and the one they did. ONESHOT. SEDDIE.


**The Five Kisses Sam and Freddie Didn't Have**

**Title: **Five First Kisses Sam and Freddie Didn't Have**  
>Rating: <strong>PG**  
>Fandom: <strong>iCarly**  
>CharactersPairing: **Seddie**  
>Genre: <strong>Romance/Humour**  
>Summary: <strong>The five kisses Sam and Freddie didn't have, and the one they did.**  
>Warnings: <strong>N/A

**.**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. If I did, oh the things I would do…

**Author's note: **Really hope you enjoy this, and for those of you following my other stories, sorry they couldn't be updated sooner. _The Sound of Life and Death _is still on hiatus, so it won't get updated for a while. I'm deeply sorry! Hope you guys enjoy this one-shot for now though :)

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"_A kiss seals two souls for a moment in time._"

~ Levende Waters

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_One._

They're at their junior year graduation party in Carly's apartment. Her living room space fills with almost everyone in all of the classes, pushing and bumping into each other as they party like there's no tomorrow. Of course, being the good girl like Carly is, there's no alcohol involved. But there are a few people who brought their own supply to last them through the night. With exams all done with, there isn't a reason not to celebrate and party like there's no tomorrow.

Sam watches it all unfold from where she's sitting on the stairs that leads to Carly's room.

Freddie is using the washroom upstairs (someone clogged jelly in the sink of the downstairs bathroom), and when he is planning to walk down the stairs, he spots Sam sitting on the steps.

Freddie walks behind her, and she feels his presence before actually hearing him.

"Hey," he greets, sitting down. His dark jeans crease at the motion. "Why aren't you with the crowd?"

She turns to face him with confusion, the bottom of her hair brushing over her shoulders ever so slightly. She isn't really sure why he even bothered asking, but she decided to give him an answer anyway. "Eh," she shrugs in a simple movement, her shiny (under some red party lights) blond curls moving, falling off her shoulders to frame her face. "They ran out of meat."

It sounds like a simple enough answer (or excuse), but to Freddie, there's something lurking behind her voice that can be only described as sadness. He wonders why she is feeling that way. He cares about her, even though he doesn't want to admit it out loud and she doesn't really want to accept it. Without thinking, he puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer. She tenses, but relaxes almost instantly at the unexpected, but welcomed, touch.

Something causes a crash in the party scene (followed by a loud cheer). Neither of them turns their head to look at it. Freddie is still surprised that Sam hasn't attempted to murder him yet.

Carly is nowhere to been seen, and Spencer has disappeared as well. The crowd seems to be going too wild. The music is bumping louder through the speakers, and there's a creepy-looking stain on the couch that even Sam doesn't want know what it is. Carly would surely freak when she sees what happens once she steps away from the crowd.

"THIS PARTY ROCKS!" Some random guy no one is sure is even from the school slurs drunkenly in the living room. "WHERE, WHERE'S THE -" he suddenly falls to the floor with a thud, and no one seems to care as he stops moving or showing any sighs of life at all.

"Thanks," Sam suddenly whispers through all of the commotion, her blond curls tickling his face as she turns to look at him. And for the first time in ages, Freddie really _sees _her - at such a close proximity, no less - through the dark lighting and the loud noises.

"For what?" They catch each other's eyes, and at that moment, there's no denying it anymore. The chemistry is there, and it's so _real _and so _close _they can almost taste it.

"For everything."

Then, at the exact same moment a balloon is being popped, Freddie leans in towards Sam. It's a daring move, he knows. And he'll be lucky if he walks away with a working leg by the end.

He doesn't even need to worry about how hard Sam can break his legs, or how much is going to hurt, because when he's still moving towards her, her lips are already touching his before he even realizes it. The kiss is brief but it's sweet all the same.

By the time they look at each other again, there's a smile on her face that Freddie is sure mirrors his own.

(In reality, when Freddie sits down next to Sam on the steps, she does say thank you. When he asks for what, she replies with "allowing me to do this", before dumping the punch in her cup onto his head. She laughs, in her usual careless fashion, and so does everyone else watching. It takes him three washes to get the grape juice out of his white shirt.)

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_Two. _

The school hallway is empty with the sound of silence. So when Sam steps out of her geography class quietly, she can hear her footsteps - and her footsteps only - making contact with the marble floor.

Her geo teacher is way too sleepy to even notice one of his students is skipping his class. And besides, Sam sits near the door anyway. It would be against the laws of the Universe if she _didn't _skip at this kind of opportunity.

She makes her way to open her locker, and turns around to find Freddie leaning against the locker next to hers. She didn't even hear him approaching, and she's wondering if she's lost her touch.

Or maybe it's just him. But that's something she doesn't even want to consider right now.

"What do you want, Nub?" she bounces back quickly and demands, beyond annoyed. The last thing (person, whatever) she wants to see is him, and his appearance only stops her from getting out of this school before anyone sees her.

"Playing hooky now, aren't we," he states, casually yet smugly. He leans back on to the locker next to hers, and folds his arms over his chest. Considering the fact that Sam skips class at _least _once a week, it isn't a surprise to see her getting ready to leave this Friday.

She gives him a skeptical look and a scoff, "look who's talking, Fredweird. What's Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes doing out of class anyways?"

"I don't know, I just felt like it."

His answer takes Sam by surprise. It isn't just the answer itself, but more the _way _he said it. It is so honest, so sincere. And most importantly, so badboy-ish. There's nothing Sam likes more in a boy than badassness. Something about what he said ignites a spark in her, and it takes a moment before she realizes she's staring at him, meeting his gaze.

It takes a longer moment for her to realize she's grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him towards her and crashing her lips onto his. She doesn't even hear the yelp of surprise that comes from him because she's too busy stopping him from making any types of noise with her mouth.

When they pull apart, she's shocked at the realization that the kiss feels _good_. In fact, it feels so good, she wants to do it over and over again.

Despite the almost fearful look and confusion in Freddie's eyes, Sam pulls him towards her again. They kiss until Ms. Briggs starts barking at them and yells for them to go back to class and flags them for detention because of their "public display of affection".

For the first time, Sam doesn't mind the detention. And so it seems, neither does Freddie.

(In reality, she does see Freddie skipping class in the hallway. But before she could feel anything or even retort at his comment, she sees Ms. Briggs advancing towards them. So, she pushes Freddie against her locker, _hard_, and makes a run for it. The only sounds she hears as she sprints out of the school are Freddie explaining his innocence and Ms. Briggs not caring.)

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_Three._

The three of them are invited to Gibby's Christmas party. His house is decorated with plenty of Christmas-y decorations; from the huge, lit-up Christmas tree in the living room, to the Santa Clause with reindeers light on his roof. There's also a snowman light in his front yard which looks uncannily like Freddie.

Sam grins and chucks a snowball at it, hitting its head directly. The snowman sways, and its light flickers, going out with a static-y sound. Freddie shudders internally, and rubs the back of his head with his hand.

Gibby is probably the only person at the party who isn't wearing a Christmas theme shirt. Actually, he isn't wearing a shirt at all, for that matter. He holds a glass of suspicious-looking red beverage in one hand and his green shirt in the other.

"Chug, chug, chug, chug…" the crowd is going wild with the chanting, and Gibby grins, pouring down the drink down his throat without a second thought. Carly, Sam and Freddie laugh (although a bit awkwardly) with most of the party crowd, and they think about how wonderfully abnormal their friend is.

"MERRY FREAKING CHRISTMAS!" Gibby yells proudly at the top of his lungs over the loud music as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Within moments, he starts dancing and climbs onto a tabletop.

"That boy needs to see a therapist," Sam states bluntly, taking one of the drinks for herself. "My Aunt Maggie's one, I'll see if I can get her number to him."

Freddie frowns, "isn't your aunt Maggie seeing a therapist for her anger issues?" He objects, eyeing the drink in her hands with uncertainty.

Sam shrugs carelessly, giving a small wave with her drink-free hand. "Details."

Freddie rolls his eyes.

Then, Carly smirks, and nudges Sam with her elbow. "Look at where you guys are standing," she remarks almost giddily. Sam and Freddie both look up at the same time, identical frowns on their faces.

The mistletoe.

The freaking damned mistletoe.

Carly knows Sam would never agree to kiss Freddie in a hundred years (at least not in public) without breaking a few of his bones or his major organs. But hey, it's Christmas, a girl can dream.

Besides, Carly muses, it's not like they haven't kissed before.

Gibby, stopping his… unique dance moves just long enough to notice where Sam and Freddie are standing. He throws both of his hands in the air, seemingly drunk from whatever he was drinking earlier, and yells, "LOOK!"

The crowd listens, turning towards the direction of Gibby's finger. They gasp, and then starts chanting almost immediately, "kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…"

Sam glares at Freddie, he looks back at her with helplessness and gulps. He doesn't want to die yet, and Sam looks like she has every intention of killing him right here, right now. In front of at least a hundred people, no less.

This is why it comes as a surprise as Sam says - well, more like mumbles reluctantly - "come here, Nub."

Then the next thing he knows, the crowd is cheering and they're kissing. They're _freaking _kissing! In front of people! But the noises and the people all seems to be fading away as the kiss progresses, because they're now both more focused on the other person than the rest of the crowd.

Carly watches the scene, mouth agape. She knows they've kissed before, but they did it in the comfort of their own privacy. For Sam to be _willingly _kissing Freddie in _public _without a noisy protest or someone getting hurt… Carly starts to break into a smile as she watches her best friends break apart. Panting just slightly as they do.

Sam must really like Freddie, because it shows, by the way she's grinning.

Even though she's trying her very best not to show it.

(In reality, there is a mistletoe hung up there near the punch table. The three of them sees it, and avoids it the entire time. They're more distracted by Gibby's dance moves anyway. Everyone seems to be. But Guppy waits underneath the mistletoe determinedly, and plants one on the ladies with every chance he gets.)

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_Four._

On a rather unseasonably chilly August night, Freddie finds Sam at his door - in the middle of the night - with every indication of being drunk.

Her normally neat blonde hair is a mess, and she's struggling to keep her clearly tired eyes open. Her face is unusually pale against the black shirt she's wearing and the florescent lights in the apartment hallway.

Good thing his mother isn't home, Freddie muses as Sam barges in without a formal invitation. She holds a half-empty beer bottle in her hand, and from the way she's swinging with every step, Freddie is worried that the beer might just spill out onto his cream-coloured - not to mention new - carpet. He is just about to reach over to take the beer bottle before Sam suddenly hollers.

"CARLY? YOU HERE?" Sam slurs loudly, probably even loud enough for the neighbours to hear and wake up. The last thing Freddie wants is someone to report Sam for underage drinking and him for harbouring a fugitive. Okay, so it might not be that extreme, but still. He doesn't want any trouble.

"Um," Freddie responses timidly. He has to get this under control. Fast. The images running through his mind are the horrible things she's done to him when she's sober. And with her being drunk, it could be a thousand times worse. He has to consider his answer carefully and thoroughly. "Nope, no Carly here. Just Freddie."

He pauses, well aware of the fact that Sam isn't remotely close to hearing one word that's coming out of his mouth. For some reason, he's relieved.

"Carly!" Sam shouts with a smile that's way too cheerful to be her own. She uses her bottle-free hand to rub Freddie's short dark hair drunkenly. With _a lot _of force. She's clearing mistaking Freddie for Carly. Freddie's head wobbles to the side, and he winces in pain as his neck feels the pressure.

Not that he didn't know it already, but man, that girl's got an arm! If she isn't torturing Freddie daily, maybe she could consider a career in pitching baseballs.

"I'm not Carly," he manages to say, with his neck still twisted to the side. "It's _Freddie_."

Sam finally decides to let go, and swings her beer bottle in order to get a drink from it. She hiccups after finishing at least half of what's left in the bottle as Freddie watches with a part disgusted, part terrified and mostly amused look.

"Why don't you sit down?" Freddie offers. Frankly, he never, ever encountered a situation like this where he had to deal with a drunk person, let alone a drunk Sam. He's pretty sure she's had at least five bottles of beer before this. Or something with more alcohol in it than just a few beers.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he's picked up his mother at a bar one night before, just weeks after getting his driver's permit. But when his mother gets drunk, she just sleeps. Unlike Sam, who's doing some weird wobbly walk towards his couch, all hyped up on the effects of alcohol.

Sam burps, and eventually finds her way onto the couch. He watches her get comfortable with her position as he yawns. Freddie looks at the clock in the living room, which indicates that it's almost three AM in the morning. Her sudden appearance seems to have made him less tired than before, but not remarkably so that he doesn't want to go back to sleep anymore. Sam leans back on the couch, causing a crease in the brown leather.

Freddie is about to close the light on his way back to his room, since Sam is now slowly dozing off on the couch, clearly comfortable. Sam then opens her eyes wide, and bounces off the couch like a spring. She reappears right in front of Freddie, her lips inches away.

Then, faster than Freddie can say "wait" or "what" or make any sound at all, Sam's lips are already on his. She tastes like beer and ham, a strange combination of food that Freddie has never tasted before. But, he has to admit, it doesn't taste half as bad as one would imagine. Then, just as fast as it happened, she pulls back, a wicked grin on her face.

"Carly," she mumbles, and Freddie can still smell the beer from her mouth. "I've always wanted to try kissing you, Kid."

Freddie is still in a daze when he hears the thump Sam makes as she sits back on his couch. For a second everything is silent, neither of them moves. Then, Sam lets out a somewhat careless yawn, and with a clatter, leaves her almost empty beer bottle on Freddie's coffee table. With her eyes already closed, she moves around a bit, and ultimately lays down on the couch, falling asleep before Freddie knows what to do with her.

In the end, he just wipes his mouth and closes the light. Part of Freddie wants to rinse off the beer taste that's still present in his mouth, but the other part overpowers this one, and it leads him straight to his room. He lies down, but doesn't sleep much for the rest of the night.

(In reality, she does barge in in the middle of the night, drunk. When she comes in, before Freddie can even attempt to stop her, she mumbles a bunch of incomprehensive drunk slur before she falls asleep on the couch. She knocks her beer bottle over more than once, and it leaves brown stains on the light-coloured carpet. In the morning, Sam realizes where she is and takes Aspirin from Freddie's medicine cabinet to cure her hangover, leaving without another sound.)

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_Five._

It's raining on the busy streets of Seattle. The raindrops hit Freddie's umbrella with a force strong enough to make a _thump _with every hit. Sam stands beside him, underneath the umbrella. The two of them holds plastic bags from the nearby grocery store that contains at least a dozen boxes of blueberries and two cartons of milk for their next iCarly skit. With every step they take, they can hear the water splashing beneath their feet.

"Quit hogging the umbrella," Sam protests all of a sudden as she feels a drop of rain hitting her shoulder, soaking through the purple long sleeve shirt she chose to wear.

Freddie sends her a look as he continues to walk down the almost empty sidewalk. "Maybe you should bring your own umbrella next time." He states matter-of-factly, refusing to move the umbrella towards her. "You knew it was going to rain today."

She doesn't give up as she comes to a halt, "gimmie that." Sam mutters, grabbing the handle of the umbrella. She pulls it towards her with a force strong enough to make Freddie lose his grip on it. Freddie stumbles a bit, and frowns as the rain starts to hit him. Sam smiles smugly with every sign of triumph flashing in her bright blue eyes, and turns to starts walking towards the iCarly studio.

Freddie follows her as fast as she can, and reaches to grab the umbrella - _his _umbrella - from her, but ends up touching her fingers instead. Sam freezes at the sudden contact, but regains her composure just fast enough to realize Freddie still hasn't moved his hand away from hers. The warmth that passes through her fingertips is undeniable, and half (probably more than that) of her hopes that he'll never move away. She looks at him, a hint of delight reflects in her blue eyes.

Neither of them moves at that moment.

Neither of them cares about the rain hitting and wetting them in places that isn't covered by the umbrella.

Sam blinks, and feels a hint of blush creeping up her cheeks. It's not something she does often, blushing. But the warmth of this blush is making the rain disappear.

"Isn't this a little clichéd?" she manages to ask before the warmness clogs her throat. Despite how much she hates this feeling, she can't deny that it feels good. So good, in fact, she doesn't even want it to end just yet.

"What do you know about clichés?" he smiles, and praying to God that he won't get hurt from talking back to her. Freddie notices the hint of blush on her cheeks, and it makes her look more radiant than usual. Before this, he doesn't even know that she is capable of blushing.

"I know more than you think, Nub," she smirks, and that's the only thing he sees before her lips are on his, kissing him softly and slowly.

He drops the umbrella, and the bag of milk he's holding. The carton breaks, and the rain washes the white liquid that spills onto the pavement away. He moves his now free hands to touch her back, and untangle her now wet hair. At least trying to. Her bags of blueberries are now dropped to the ground as well, and her hands are now exploring his soaked back.

They don't care they're supposed to hate each other, because this feels too damn _good _for both of them to care about much anymore.

(In reality, Sam hogs the umbrella all the way back to the studio, and Freddie catches a cold the next day from being soaking wet from the walk. His mother makes him some disgusting secret family remedy with spinach and broccoli and some other thing she refuses to tell him. Freddie drinks it reluctantly and pukes it all out within minutes.)

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_One._

The day before Freddie is heading off the settle in in MIT, Sam finds him drinking a smoothie by himself in the iCarly studio. Carly's out with Spencer, picking out the last essentials before she moves into NYU, and Sam - being the only person out of the three staying in Seattle - decides to hang around the studio a bit, waiting for Carly to come home.

"Hey," Freddie gives her a small wave at the sight of her.

She waves back silently, and sits down on the beanbag chair next to his.

The silence hangs in the air for a few seconds.

"Why are you drinking a smoothie?" She asks all of a sudden, tipping her chin at his almost-finished beverage.

Freddie frowns," what's wrong with a smoothie?"

"Well," Sam starts, unconsciously moving closer to him on her beanbag. "If you're going to be all sulky and pout-y, you might as well be drinking something stronger."

"Like what?" Freddie ignores the "sulky and pout-y" comment, and narrows his eyes at the blonde sitting seemingly too close to him. He suddenly has a flashback to the day when she barged into his apartment, drunk.

Sam shrugs, "beer, for one. Maybe vodka helps too. Or maybe you can just get a cocktail with your favourite drinks." She uses her fingers to tick off each option she's listed, all the while thinking about the day she was drunk. She's still pretty fuzzy on the details, especially on how she got into Freddie's apartment. But it's not like she's just going to ask him.

"How do you know so much about this?" Freddie asks, skeptical.

Sam is pulled away from her memory by the question, "my mom dated a bartender last year. He taught me a few tricks."

Freddie nods, "of course." He mutters, a ghost of a smile playing on his features.

The silence settles in once again. Freddie slurps his smoothie, and the sound seems at least a hundred times louder than normal.

"So, this is it, huh?" Sam suddenly says as Freddie finishes his smoothie. He sets it down the empty container down next to him on the wooden floor. The plastic container catches the light from outside the window, and it casts a clear shadow onto the faux-wood floor.

Freddie isn't sure how to respond to Sam's statement. Sharing sensual moments between them doesn't happen a lot, but nowadays, it seems to be happening more frequently. And it doesn't catch Freddie by surprise anymore.

"This is the end," Sam elaborates, a bit unwillingly. "You're off to Massachusetts, Carly's going to New York, and I'm staying right here in Seattle," she pauses, sighing. It's no secret that iCarly's going to be ending this week (with their final show scheduled on Friday), and now that they're going separate ways, iCarly might not be the only thing that's ending.

"At least New York and Massachusetts are close together," Sam continues, feeling Freddie's gaze landing on her. "Me, I'm going to be all the way here in Washington."

"How would you know New York and Massachusetts are close to each other?" Freddie asks, quirking an eyebrow. Sam's no geography buff, but Freddie isn't surprised that she knows where the two states are located. The only reason he even asked the question is because she needs a distraction, and frankly, so does he.

Sam stays silent, and the sheer fact that she's not retorting him with an insult is a strong enough indication to Freddie that something's wrong.

Without thinking, he reaches over towards her and puts his hand on hers. Sam looks up, alarmed, but doesn't move his hand away. Freddie's question still hangs in the air.

"I'm not good with goodbyes," Sam finally admits, the playful, careless bully mask she usually wears around Freddie is slowly fading. Freddie now realizes how vulnerable Sam actually is, on the inside.

He turns to meet her eyes, and notices that they're more glossy than usual. "You don't have to be, Sam."

They hold each other's gazes for a moment before something is triggered between them. Suddenly they're fifteen years old and sitting on the fire escape and helping each other getting over their first kisses. Like a huge tide rushing towards the shore, they crash onto each other, without warning, without protest. Their lips meet in a breathtaking moment. It doesn't take long before they're both out of breath and practically begging for air.

"You don't always have to say goodbye," Freddie manages with a grin on his face.

"I know." Sam replies, the grin on her face mirrors Freddie's.

(In reality, their second kiss isn't their last.)

- _FIN_

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><p><em>Well, leave a review and tell me what you thought of it :) It'll make my day~<em>

_XO - Spring  
><em>


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